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Music

Stray Observations from the Field at a Death in June Show

Death in June are a weird dad band, basically.

Here I stand drinking a beer, watching some Nazi kook sing songs about goddamn roses and fucking Germany. His only accompaniment is an accordion player, which is convenient seeing as said kook needs his hands free to ring fucking bells and chimes and random bullshit like that.

Wearing his usual drab German military fatigues and a stupid fucking Scream mask, Douglas P. of Death In June spends two hours playing what I presume are bangers, yet, minus a few known pit stompers, are frankly far too deep in the catalog for me to know about. It's hard to tell what the hell is actually happening because, as a normal human being, I'm not used to hearing a bunch of techno songs and folk songs I love being played by some asshole on a fucking accordion, let alone one backed by Doug P. wearing his own band's shirt. Let alone opened for by a weirdo wearing the same shirt playing his own renditions of DIJ songs on a Sony keyboard.

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My Gpen has died, and I'm now halfway through “All Pigs Must Die.” I can't tell if I'm watching the Pogues or a shitty high school version of shitty Shakespeare play. Doug P. whips the chimes and makes a whisper sound, and all I can think about is WWE powerhouse Goldust. The similarities are astounding: sick costumes, gay dudes, and phenomenal grappling skills. I bet there’s a lot of WWE and DIJ crossover.

The stage is lined with the standard semi-neo-Nazi propaganda that our boy P-Dougie is known for. Since touring the States, he's adapted to a more Americanized version of his one trick pony. I think it looks tight, honestly. I appreciate the showmanship. He probably got down to the club early and set all that shit up himself. No help from anyone. Just him. I bet that shit took a long time. The merch guy is slinging Mexican flag patches with Totenkopf smack dab in the middle. As someone who's seen Mexican skinheads cover “Back With a Bang” (not chill), I appreciate this. I also see this patch doing very well in Italy.

Every instrument onstage could be found in an elementary school music lab, and it's got some Tommy Bahamas-looking motherfucker banging on a conga drum to match. There are horrifyingly loud sound clips of lord knows who yelling or chanting or something. Maybe this is not for me.

Goth people will dance regardless of rhythmic intentions, though. They just feel vibes. As soon as Douglas P. picked his guitar up, some fucked up, weird bohemian lady was on me like flies on shit. Stevie Nicks of the Third Reich fucking loooovvvveeedddd it.

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Death in June are a weird dad band. Yes, it's an ostensibly cool gay dad, but it's still an old Dockers-wearing motherfucker who should leave it to handsome young kids from Denmark. The first half of this set reminded me of a Slipknot show. There is definitely some crossover in that department.

The vibe changed completely and noticeably during the second half. It seemed like Big D started having fun at this intimate gig, playing to 60 people at a goth club on a Tuesday at 9:30 PM. This half of the set was beautiful—passionate, honest, and pure. There were utterly gorgeous renditions of amazing, incredibly arranged songs. He was having fun. You can tell. He was actually enjoying playing music, unlike earlier, when it was like watching a kid smoking his last cigarette as he headed into the trenches.

Can you imagine how stressful it must be in a band like Death In June? People fucking hate you. They protest your shows and wish you were dead. They maybe sometimes pray for it. I think Douglas P. sings pretty songs. I don’t care about his political agenda. He came to Austin and played to 60 people like it could have been 1000. I respect that.

Peppermint Rose has a lovely ring to it.

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